Doing the Splits With a Muffin

 

To a hungry person, God can only come as bread. Ghandi

I was not feeling well the other day, so I decided to have an English Muffin and juice for dinner. It was not a very healthy or filling choice, but it was something.

I pulled the muffin out of the package, as per usual, and then set about trying to split the top from the bottom. I’ll confess I don’t exactly know why muffins aren’t either left whole (so the consumer can slice it properly with a knife) or completely split so the halves can be easily toasted. Who is the brainiac who decided the best way to package muffins is ninety percent split, with the remaining substance determined never to let go? I mean, it’s a muffin, for heaven’s sake, not a Shakespearian tragedy!

But it is what it is. I hate that phrase, but nothing says it better. It is what it is.

I finally managed to split the muffin without making too ugly a mess of it, and it was worth the effort. Sadly, the toaster was set too low, so it didn’t get quite as crunchy as I had hoped, but when one is struggling to simply survive, perfection isn’t a prerequisite. My package of muffins contains five more little darlings, so I know each one will bring me closer to toasting perfection. Until then, I’ll make do.

That’s life, though, isn’t it? We take it a day at a time – a meal at a time – and we make do with what we have and make adjustments as we go. When my mother would make a meal and guests would drop by, or visitors possibly stay past their welcome, she never fretted. She would add this and that to the menu so that no one ever had the impression it had been watered down or stretched thin. She was a marvelous host and, to be honest, no one ever stayed past their welcome. If it was approaching dinner time, she’d specifically ask them if they wanted to stay for supper, and she’d prepare a feast!

I think she embodied the spirit of generosity (and culinary creativity) that allowed her to flourish as a friend. She lived out the Jesus-itude*: When I was hungry, you fed me; when thirsty, you gave me to drink; when lonely, you visited; etc. She made every effort to see Jesus in the other person. I don’t believe she ever saw a relationship as transactional (If you do this, I’ll do that).

Ghandi once said, “To a hungry person, God can only come as bread.” I suspect he was speaking of the real poor of the world for whom survival depended upon real sustenance. But I think it is true, also, for those who hunger for things less corporeal, but just as essential – like justice, peace, equality, or even companionship.

When I miss a meal, it is always by choice. I don’t believe I have ever missed a meal in my life due to an empty bank account or because the nearest grocery store was too far away and/or transportation non-existent. When reporters told Marie Antoinette the people had no bread, she is said to have replied, “Well, let them eat cake.” It never dawned on her, as a child of luxurious privilege, that those with no bread in their cupboards would be even less likely to have cakes in their pantries (or muffins!). 

What keeps us from being bread to a hungry world? What prevents us from working for justice or peace? Most of the time, I presume it is fear or greed that keeps us from being all God wants us to be. The question is: Can we do something about it? 

Sure. The muffin is partially split so it can be divided and shared – but with effort; we just need to work on it so as not to make a mess of it. Sharing the muffin unites those who eat of it. Even if it isn’t toasted perfectly, who cares? Just enjoy it with a smile and Jesus-itude* here in this, our valley.

*That’s a word I coined,  referencing and combining a platitude and attitude of Jesus.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available exclusively through Amazon in Print and e-book)

I May Be Off My Rocker, but I'm OK

 

Worry is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere. (Anonymous)

There is an old Jewish proverb that says something like: An angel goes before each of us saying, “Here comes one created in the image of the Almighty.”

I like that imagery. It is a reminder of those early chapters in the Bible where we are told that not only did God create the human race, but God created us with the intention that those with whom we interact would see right through us and beyond to the Divine. We are to be like stained glass windows where we see the image of a saint portrayed in multi-colored panes and panels, and yet what we actually see is the light that passes through those windows. My mother would remind me, “You are to be a pane, not a pain!”

Sadly, I am too often the latter and not the former – more pain than pane. I am broken glass against which others can be hurt, injured, cut, or worse. That’s a reality of the human race. I am saddened by all the ugliness I see spread on “social” media. Social? More often than not it seems quite anti-social. 

There are valiant attempts, to be sure, of folks trying to be positive, enlightened, educational, informative, or edifying, but it sure seems like I see more and more stuff that raises up my own hackles, bringing out the worst in me. When that happens, I realize I have far more in common with Cain, who slew his brother, than Abel – the one who simply and innocently (and quite possibly “accidentally”) pleased God.

As I go through Social Media posts, I find myself wondering what sickness impels me to want to correct every bit of misinformation or drivel I see. Yes, the misinformation, disinformation, and drivel are there, but why on earth do I feel the need to leap into a skin-tight blue suit with a big red S (for Savior?) and cape and fly away? Let’s face it, if I fly, it is more often the handle off of which I fly than anything else (and at a speed resembling a bullet sitting on the table than firing out of the business end of a firearm). You can forget the locomotive and just stop at “loco.”

No, when the angel walks before me, I suspect he or she is more likely to cry out, “Beware; here comes a cheap imitation of the One who created him!” (Who knew my angel could be so rude and cruel?)

But it’s true. I am not now (and never have been) a very good reflection of the Divine. I suppose that’s why God sent One who could do for me what I cannot do for myself. As long as I wrap myself in him, I am more likely to reflect the Divine than if I try to do so on my own.

I guess that’s why I have spent my life in a community of faith. Alone, I would allow my ego to run rampant. It would clearly believe itself to be immortal, all-knowing, and wise. I need a community to keep me in check; I need a community to remind me of how little I know, and to help me repair all the damage I may cause along the way. I’m off my rocker, and I need a community to lift me up and put me back – but not into the seat, but into a lap.

I mentioned last time that we are in the season of Lent. The purpose of the season (to my way of thinking) isn’t about beating ourselves up over how bad we are or can be, but to acknowledge that we are each a work in progress. Sometimes we get so busy running to and fro we forget to stop and simply enjoy the company of One who wants nothing more than to enjoy our company for all eternity. 

The good news is there’s nothing more we need to do than to let God be God. God’s better at it than we are; we need only sit in God’s lap and rock on. Odds are that’s one rocker that’s going places! God will do the rest here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available exclusively through Amazon in Print and e-book)